


I, Too, Would Fly Beyond the Sea

by FereldenTurnip



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Come Shot, Facials, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous use of shark reproductive organs, M/M, Merman Yusuf al-Kaysani, Porn with Feelings, Somewhat, Sorry Not Sorry, Virgin Yusuf al-Kaysani
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27240592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FereldenTurnip/pseuds/FereldenTurnip
Summary: They fell in love at sea. One human, one merman. For awhile their love was enough. Until Yusuf wants to be with Nicolò in morecarnal ways. Now, his new human body perplexes him. It's up to his love, his mate, to teach him all the pleasurable heights they can reach together.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 22
Kudos: 262
Collections: All Kinkmeme and More: a very casual prompt n fill exchange!





	I, Too, Would Fly Beyond the Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaerith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerith/gifts).



> Nobody's done merman stuff before, right? ...RIGHT?? 
> 
> See end notes for prompt!
> 
> For [Kaerith!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerith/pseuds/Kaerith) Hope you enjoy it! <3
> 
> Thanks again to my beta, [Avanie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avanie/pseuds/Avanie)! With out you, my words would just be vomit lol

  
  


They meet at sea.

  
  


It’s not a stormy, churning bucket of brine and broth. Nor is it a dark and cloudy night like most fairy tales would tell it. Instead, the skies stretch on in an endless blue blanket, letting the sun glitter over the turquoise-coloured ocean waves. The waters are calm and sound travels much further in such conditions. So, when a banging commotion ripples over the current, Yusuf can’t help drawing himself to the surface to slake his curiosity. 

  
  


It’s a wounded frigate with one of its masts on fire. Their rotten-smelling boom barrels implode out of the hull as the fire spreads--the origin of the pulsing shockwaves. Yusuf swims far enough out to avoid the shrapnel, but close enough to watch the catastrophe. He’s seen dozens of naval battles, but none strike him quite like this one. For one, where was the enemy ship? The horizon is devoid of any other vessels. 

  
  


Humans scurry along the deck, shouting and screaming--dying and drowning. Soon, Yusuf’s brothers and sisters will scavenge whatever’s left. Tear apart whomever is unlucky enough to survive the sinking. 

  
  


One pair of humans are different from the rest. They’re not panicking in the chaos, instead they’re _fighting_. Yusuf dares to swim closer. Their shiny metal sticks clash and try to strike each other down. The larger, burlier of the two delivers a backhand that knocks the other over into the railing, gut first. He grunts, clenching his teeth, long brown hair in disarray. 

  
  


That’s when their eyes connect. 

  
  


Yusuf feels his gills flutter when the man notices him peering from above the waves. He has the most beautiful green-blue eyes--like the ocean itself is trapped within them and leaking out. The human blinks, mouth dropping open in surprise. 

  
  


It’s… it’s like _destiny_. 

  
  


And that’s when the bulky man slashes Ocean Eyes along his back with his shiny stick. The pale face crumbles in silent agony, Yusuf completely forgotten in his pain. 

  
  


“You little bastard!” The wicked man shouts, “You’ve ruined _everything!_ I’m going to make this ocean your grave!” 

  
  


“Better I die than live to see you hurt anyone else again,” Ocean Eyes spits. It only enrages the other, makes him heft the stick to strike him again. Ocean Eyes turns away, back towards the water where Yusuf is shaking his head in sorrow. _But he’ll kill you!_

  
  


Bowing his head, Ocean Eyes accepts his fate. He gives Yusuf a parting smile and closes his eyes. Suddenly, the frigate lurches, rocked by a powerful latent blast. The wicked man stumbles, shiny stick disappearing. Ocean Eyes gasps, clinging to the railing as the entire ship capsizes into the sea.

  
  


A thrust from his tail and Yusuf dives under and out of the way. The sails hit the surface with a mighty clapping noise, the fires immediately doused. Underneath the bulky mass, Yusuf is shrouded in murky shadow. Cargo and corpses filter past him, and he flits around the obstacles with ease. Where is Ocean Eyes?? Yusuf frantically bolts this way and that, his striped tail propelling him. There! 

  
  


He hangs suspended in the water, blood from his back wound leaching and diluting around him. Yusuf can smell its sharp tang, and he knows there isn’t much time before the others do as well. Ocean Eyes struggles, twisting to paw desperately at the rigging ensnaring his leg. Silky brown hair freely floats around his pale face, and he’s starting to slow from the lack of air. Yusuf doesn’t even deliberate--he’s already darting forward, decision made. 

  
  


His webbed fingers work alongside human hands and together they get him released. A single boot sinks in a lonely spiral. Ocean Eyes wraps his arms around Yusuf’s shoulders, too weak from asphyxiation. Worried, Yusuf swims them to the surface far away from the carnage. 

  
  


The moment his head breaks, Ocean Eyes sputters and coughs. Yusuf holds him above the lapping waves, hand petting drenched hair away from his mouth so air can better reach his lungs. He shakes in Yusuf’s arms, but he is _alive_. 

  
  


“ _Mio eroe_ ,” Ocean Eyes rasps with a beatific smile. He sinks further into the embrace.

  
  


Warmth seeps into Yusuf’s belly. Overjoyed, he nuzzles his nose against Ocean Eyes’ cheek. 

  
  


They drift serenely with the current.

  
  


*****

  
  


“I must say, _tesoro_ , this would go a lot faster if you helped.”

  
  


“Ah-ah! Just a little bit more… There, perfect!” Yusuf dabs the finishing touch to his latest masterpiece. He cleans the watercolour off his brush and pushes away from the dock to help Nicolò haul in the fishing net. His tail has enough strength in it to drag three lines, but they only need enough to feed themselves. 

  
  


Nicolò huffs, smiling and rolling his gorgeous eyes upwards. He kneels in just his linen braies and drops the fish into a nearby bucket. Yusuf heaves his upper body up next to him and leans against his lover. The sleek grey tail arcs over the dock and dips beneath the waves. ‘ _Squalo tigre_ ’ Nicolò once told him, admiring the mottled spots and stripes that run the length. 

  
  


A knuckle runs gently over the leathery skin, mindful not to cut himself on the sharp invisible teeth. They must be careful with Yusuf’s lower body, limiting their intimacy so as not to hurt Nicolò. Already Nicolò’s thighs bear featherlight scars from when he tried wrapping his legs around Yusuf’s middle. He had ripped right into his trousers, effectively putting a stop to anything sexual right then and there. 

  
  


Of course, they still _touch_. A caress here and there, limited to the upper body. Particularly to Nicolò’s hair, because Yusuf can’t stop running his fingers through the long silk locks. It makes his human melt and arch forward for a sweet kiss. And, oh, by the Deep! What a wonderful mouth Nicolò has! Who knew what a delight kissing could be until Nicolò angled his head just right and sucked on his pink lips. He taught Yusuf to curl his tongue around his, and Yusuf showed Nicolò how to avoid his razor-sharp teeth. 

  
  


They could kiss for an eternity and it _still_ wouldn’t be enough. His is an insatiable appetite and Nicolò is more than happy to feed him. 

  
  


More often than not, Yusuf burns with liquid-hot frustration--not against Nicolò, no never! Only with _himself_. If Nicolò were one of his people, things would be different. Yusuf would curl him against the seafloor, wrap their tails together, and mate with his teeth in his shoulder. Whirling grey sand a curtain to shield the reefs from their passionate lovemaking. 

  
  


But his kind are meant for malevolent things. They’re made for blood and swarming, for clawing and rending. With Nicolò, however, Yusuf _yearns_ to be soft. His human stokes a tenderness inside Yusuf that permanently ostracises him from his kin. There is a bone-deep ache, a love that has him soaring jubilantly, like a bird-fish that leaps and flies over the waves. One look from Nicolò and Yusuf’s heart is stricken, absolutely at the mercy of his ocean eyes. He loves him, he loves him, he-- 

  
  


“And what are you working on today, hmm?” Nicolò asks, pulling him out of his deep thoughts. It’s so empathetic that Yusuf just has to kiss his tanned skin. Kissing Nicolò never grows old, even after a year spent living away from their own communities. 

  
  


“Just our beach again,” Yusuf says, running his lips across a broad, freckled shoulder. Nicolò ‘hmms,’ fixing his net while kissing Yusuf’s forehead with practiced ease. 

  
  


“I love your beach scenes, especially the sunset ones. Oh! And the seashells. They remind me of the conch shell you gave me--do you remember that?”

  
  


Yusuf smiles into his collarbone, wrapping his arms around Nicolò’s soft middle. Of course he remembers. _It is a courting gift among my people and you accepted it. We are_ **_mates_** _, Nicolò._

  
  


Except they haven’t _mated_ mated. It disheartens Yusuf to no end. He knows Nicolò is content with the relationship they have, but _Yusuf_ craves much more.

  
  


Staring at the canvas over Nicolò’s shoulder, Yusuf sinks into quiet contemplation. The bright watercolours were a thoughtful gift from his human, purchased after Nicolò showed him an illuminated manuscript. It was full of astounding pictures and marvelous places that Yusuf could only dream of. The reefs of his home are a kaleidoscope of shifting shapes and colours; the ocean a vast and mysterious plane. Yet the human world is the stuff of legends and Yusuf’s imagination pales in comparison to the real thing dangling just out of reach. 

  
  


The colours on his painting swirl and blend together to form a perfect impression of their private paradise. Nestled on top of a sandy hill is Nicolò’s sea-side cottage. Below that is the ocean inlet Yusuf must return to every night. The cove is striking and beautiful, but oh-so lonely. He knows within his very soul that Nicolò’s little abode is just as cold and lonesome without Yusuf. The knowledge has him squeezing Nicolò tighter, pressing kisses into his temple. That settles it then. 

  
  


Saving Nicolò’s life all those months ago was the easiest decision Yusuf’s ever made. 

  
  


His best commitment is yet to come… 

  
  


*****

  
  


“Y-Yusuf, _per favore! Mi amore!_ Please wake up! Please…” 

  
  


Nicolò is sobbing. 

  
  


It breaks Yusuf’s heart to hear such a devastating sound. Anguish worse than a forlorn whale’s mourning cry. Yusuf wants nothing more than to put an end to whatever is causing Nicolò’s suffering. His human is a light in the darkness and warmth in the cold.

  
  


Eyes heavy, it takes forever for Yusuf to slit them open. There are grey, gloomy clouds blocking the sun and for a moment he thinks it’s raining. Except, no, those are Nicolò’s tears speckling his face. He tries to comfort him, to raise his hand and touch the trembling arms that cradle his torso. All his limbs feel weighted with iron. Wait… _limbs_. 

  
  


Appendages, shiny and new, wiggle and it’s the strangest sensation. He’s caked in gore--the price for shedding one’s skin--and it feels so cold and nasty.

  
  


Nicolò gasps above him, hope creeping into his gravelly voice, “Yusuf??”

  
  


“I’m here… I’m here.” 

  
  


He’s wrapped in a bruising hug, Nicolò’s hair curtaining Yusuf as he peppers his face with dozens of kisses. 

  
  


_It worked._

  
  


*****

  
  


Yusuf sits on the beach, marveling the way the sand clings to his toes. _Toes!_ Now that’s a concept to get used to. So are trousers, and shoes--and _walking_. It’s taken him nearly a full lunar cycle to come to terms with his new body. All the eccentric motions, the new (and lost) muscles, and the added weight that comes with living on land. 

  
  


His first steps were cautious, Yusuf’s body wobbling so poorly that he’d fall and topple over. Nicolò, patient and kind man that he is, teaches him with calming support. One day, Yusuf feels confident enough to stand at his fullest height. He puffs out his chest and doesn’t waver. Nicolò smiles at him, his ocean eyes fond and proud. Yusuf laughs when they realize he’s taller. 

  
  


“Oh, _basta!_ It’s only a small difference!” 

  
  


“What was that? I can’t hear you from all the way up here!” Two steps and he’s crowding against Nicolò, sweeping him into his arms. Of course, Nicolò is right, but telling him so would spoil all the fun. He chases that stubborn, smiling mouth and seals their lips together. 

  
  


Without his hunting teeth, Yusuf can nip and bite Nicolò without fear of shredding him open. Nicolò moans so sweetly when his tongue delves past human teeth to lick Yusuf’s palate. Kissing Nicolò as a human makes his toes curl. He discovers he likes the feeling and does it as often as he can get away with. A precious routine rather than a wary hazard. 

  
  


However, it’s not just the legs, but the rest of the whole human package. 

  
  


Over his scalp sprouts hair. Tonnes of it. It grows like the weeds in Nicolò’s vegetable garden, dark and thick. Unlike Nicolò’s straight locks, his hair tightens into wiry spirals. At night, when they’ve both retired to bed ( _their bed_ ), Nicolò twiddles the curls around his fingers. He plucks and teases a strand straight, then smiles as it snaps back into shape. “ _Bello_ ,” Nicolò whispers, their breath mingling as they share a pillow and stare into each other’s eyes. 

  
  


He massages Yusuf’s face when his cheek hairs--his beard--gets too itchy. Warm palms run the length of Yusuf’s arms and chest, petting the hair dusting tawny-bronze skin. His dexterous hands are perfect for turning Yusuf into a gooey jellyfish. 

  
  


There is hair in every nook and cranny of his body, some more persistent than others. Such as the entire area awaiting at the connection between his new legs. The thicket of hair at his crotch is his least concern. 

  
  


The convergence is, to put it mildly, astonishing. There are good days when curiosity turns him playfully experimental--poking his bits to deduce how much prodding they’ll endure. On bad days, however, he’s so disquieted by the changes that not even Nicolò’s kisses can comfort him. 

  
  


Those days are a haze of irrational anxiety, eschewing his mate’s loving touches. They’ll be kissing one minute, their breaths hitching and skin crying out for more. Clever fingers will inevitably trail downwards. One brush against his belt and Yusuf abruptly shies away. Desire to finally consummate their love is snuffed out like a candle. 

After pausing to collect himself, Nicolò simply nods. “Alright,” he says, and lays them onto their sides to cuddle. Which is a shame, because Yusuf wants to chase his pleasure. He’s altered his body for _him_. Now, he can’t even look Nicolò in the eye. It’s not fair to either of them and Yusuf must fix this. 

  
  


*****

  
  


Today is Sunday. Yusuf will have the cottage all to himself. 

  
  


Like clockwork, Nicolò wakes early, breaks his fast, and saddles his horse for a ride into the nearby village. They kiss goodbye--never a goodbye, not really--Nicolò’s gloved hand playing with the hair at Yusuf’s nape. 

  
  


_(“To church,_ **_caro_** _,” he says amiably. Yusuf huffs, “But every week?” A chuckle, “Of course! You’re welcome to join me…”_ ) 

  
  


Whatever disappointment he must surely feel from Yusuf’s lack of enthusiasm, from his self-imposed seclusion, he never voices it. Nicolò is as obliging and considerate as always. His ocean-coloured eyes speak volumes when words no longer suffice. They promise Yusuf that he will wait for him to be ready, in his own due time. He mounts his horse and trots away, smiling over his shoulder until he disappears around a bend in the path. 

  
  


The cottage ( _their_ cottage) is a happy, inhabited home. Bookshelves bathed in sunlight. Furniture cozy with blankets. Smells of herbs and citrus clinging to the air. Yusuf loves it here.

  
  


Today it’s quiet without his mate puttering around. 

  
  


This is precisely what Yusuf requires--no witnesses. He lays out on their couch, legs spread and trousers around his ankles. A deep, calming inhale, and Yusuf begins his task of familiarizing himself with, well, _himself_. 

  
  


As he examines his jumbled clutter of parts, his brows furrow in consternation. So many additions and subtractions! His previous two claspers, both paperwhite and thin, are replaced with a singular member. Small and spongy, it’s slightly duskier than the rest of his human skin. It comes with its own little flabby sheath that Yusuf must diligently clean during bath time (because now excrement seeps out of it too-- _how wild_ ). When he pokes it, it’s soft and squishy--floppy. It dangles limp and lifeless over his thigh. 

  
  


Just underneath that is his--egg sack? No, Nicolò called it something else, ‘ _coglione_ ’, whatever that means. Regardless of the terminology, it’s a dense, dark sack that connects to his clasper and sags between his legs. They hurt when they’re hit, so Yusuf gentles his handling. Hair covers the wrinkly sack, curls and clings to the base of his clasper. Fingernails accidentally scratch at the coarse fur and Yusuf jumps from how _good_ it feels. The member gives an involuntary twitch, heat slowly ebbing into the cove of his hips. _Oh! This must be it!_ So Yusuf chases the sensation and yanks at the hair again. 

  
  


Ouch!--Okay. No. By the Deep, that was stupid. 

  
  


He huffs petulantly, crossing his arms and glaring at his human bits, as if he can glower them into obeying. So absorbed in his inspection, he fails to hear the door click open, or Nicolò calling out his name. 

  
  


“There you are! I forgot my-- _Yusuf??_ ” 

  
  


Yusuf jumps, nearly sliding off the couch because his legs are still trapped in his trousers. He stammers, cheeks and ears flushing in embarrassment. “Er…” 

  
  


Nicolò stands shyly in the doorway to their day room, hand pressed to his lips. His lovely eyes are wide and unblinking as they stare at Yusuf’s naked groin. “So, do you,” Nicolò is just as red in the face, “…should I leave?”

  
  


A maelstrom of emotions swirl in his guts, like a water spout churning coastal waters. For a moment, Yusuf considers covering himself and sending Nicolò away. The concerned look in his ocean eyes, however, has him sighing in defeat instead. 

  
  


Nicolò takes it as permission to stay. He tiptoes into the room, prying his gloves off and setting them in his lap as he perches on the couch next to Yusuf. 

  
  


“Is everything alright, Yusuf?” Always polite, his mate. 

  
  


Yusuf deflects, “Shouldn’t you be at church?” 

  
  


Tentatively, Nicolò takes Yusuf’s hand into his own. “There’s no place I’d rather be than here with you, Yusuf. If you need me, then the rest of the world can wait.” He laces their fingers together and squeezes.

  
  


Yusuf blinks, misty-eyed from the affectionate admission. He answers honestly, “I’m just struggling to get used to,” he gestures lamely at himself, not even bothering to cover up, “this.” 

  
  


Nicolò glances down his body. “Something tells me it’s not the legs.”

  
  


“No, it’s not,” he sighs, anger leaving like an outgoing tide. 

  
  


“But, this is what you wanted, right?”

  
  


“Yes, of course it is!”

  
  


Silence passes over them. Nicolò’s thumb brushes over their clasped hands--calming and grounding. When Nicolò speaks, he’s low and hushed, “What you’ve done is very brave. You gave up everything just to walk with me on land and yet…” he pauses, suddenly thin-lipped and sad. 

  
  


Yusuf leans forward to nuzzle that desolate expression off his face, “Nicolò?”

  
  


“I’m worried that you changed yourself for the wrong person. That I am unworthy of such a precious gift.” 

  
  


“Excuse me?” Yusuf stutters, jaw dropping. “That’s dumb! That’s not at all--that’s _woefully_ dense of you!”

  
  


Nicolò scoffs, ripping his hand away to cross his arms. The window drapings are now subject to a vexed glare. It’s _adorable_. A chuckle sputters unbidden out of Yusuf, burbling out even as he slaps a hand over his grinning mouth. It only annoys his mate further.

  
  


“Oh, oh no, Nicolò I _love_ you,” Yusuf wraps him up in an embrace. His lips trail across Nicolò’s forehead, heartfelt kisses melting away his icy demeanor until he curls into Yusuf. “Should I have to choose, I would give up the sea and all her splendid treasures--I will never set foot in her waters again, nor gaze upon her gold-crusted horizon, if it means I get to keep you,” he says. “You’re all and you’re _more_ , Nicolò.” 

  
  


Slowly, Nicolò’s lips tug into a smile, his ocean eyes damp and luminous. Jaw ticking with emotion, he cards his fingers through Yusuf’s curls, pulling him closer to kiss him tenderly “Incurable romantic,” Nicolò mutters. He pets Yusuf’s beard, turning his palm so Yusuf can press a kiss to the long lines. 

  
  


“If that’s so, then why do you shy from me at night, my love?” 

  
  


“Yes, well, you see…” Yusuf glances down between their intertwined bodies where his clasper remains unaffected. “I’m unsure how this all works.”

  
  


“Now who’s the dense one?” Nicolò smirks.

  
  


Alright, Yusuf deserved that one. He ducks his head and kisses the mole on Nicolò’s cheek. “You know what I meant, you cheeky eel!” 

  
  


Nicolò snorts, patting Yusuf’s bare knee. It’s the first time since his transformation that Yusuf has allowed him to feel the skin there. His hand is warm, almost too warm. _Searing_ , even. He gulps. 

  
  


“Yusuf,” Nicolò asks, “have you tried touching yourself?”

  
  


“Yes,” and he demonstrates by jostling himself with a knuckle. “See, nothing.”

  
  


“ _Cazzo Madre di Dio_ \--no, love,” Nicolò raises both eyebrows, “I mean _touch_ yourself. Bring yourself pleasure.” 

  
  


Yusuf groans, “I must be doing something wrong. Before, my instincts told me to bite and thrash,” Nicolò blushes and teethes his lower lip. “It was pleasurable, yes, but required no forethought. These,” he points to his bits, “are useless, incompatible.”

  
  


Nicolò coughs, “Humans must be made ready by other means, _caro_.” His voice is low and prickly. It sends a shiver down Yusuf’s spine. That succulent heat is back, leisurely coiling in the pit of his stomach. Yusuf cups Nicolò’s neck. He can feel the other’s heartbeat wildly drumming. 

  
  


“Can you,” he wets his lips, “show me?” 

  
  


Nicolò’s nostrils flare, “Are you certain?” 

  
  


Yusuf rubs his lips over his mate’s, his answer whispered into his mouth. “Please.” 

  
  


Unmoored, Nicolò sails into Yusuf and sweeps him up into an ardent kiss. Yusuf clings to him, caught in the net his passion. They kiss with open mouths, saliva slickening the way for their wriggling tongues. Nicolò’s hands dip inside Yusuf’s robe to rub his pert nipples, fingers rolling and pinching. Enticing quiver after quiver out of Yusuf. A second later, and the fabric ends up cast over the couch. Nicolò’s riding jacket and waistcoat follow.

  
  


His mate pulls away, reluctance outlined in his taut, broad shoulders. Yusuf licks his sore lips and falls ever so slightly more in love with Nicolò. This version of him is completely liberated. The long brown hair escapes his tie, disheveled by Yusuf’s petting. Eyes glitter like pearls. That perfect mouth of his is a bruised ring that ensorcells Yusuf. He wants more!

  
  


Alas, his mate slithers away, parting from Yusuf to slide to the floor on his knees. The trousers bunched at his ankles come off, legs spreading so Nicolò can nestle comfortably in between. His shapely lips trail up the inside of Yusuf’s thighs, wet kisses marking delicate flesh. So much better than nicking him with his leathery tail. When he reaches a raised hip bone, the man looks up through his eyelashes at Yusuf and bites him. 

  
  


Instantly, everything clicks into place. 

  
  


Shouting, Yusuf thrusts and feels his clasper come to life. He squeezes his eyes shut as teeth induce exquisite pleasure-pain. It floods directly to his groin, like lava flow hissing against cold waters. 

  
  


“See, not broken,” Nicolò snickers. Brown eyes crack open just in time to watch Nicolò deliberately blow over the tip elongating out of its sheath. By the Deep! It feels so _good_. His hand feels even _better_. Nicolò pumps lightly at first, firming his fingers as Yusuf hardens. 

  
  


“Oh! Oh! Ah!” Unaware of the racket escaping him, Yusuf continues burning from the inside out. He is a log in a fireplace simmering with vibrant embers. The cloying heat in his gut spreads, torching his spine and extremities. Knees bend as his legs flex and spasm with every pull on his clasper. Closer and closer, Yusuf edges to a precipice, to a yawning, deep-sea cavern. Any moment and he’ll fall over. He doesn’t know whether to scream at or thank Nicolò when he withdraws. 

  
  


“Go on, touch yourself Yusuf,” Nicolò stands, fingering the buttons of his trousers, “Yes, just like that. It’s enjoyable, no?”

  
  


Frantically nodding his head, Yusuf mimics Nicolò’s handling of himself. His mate bends at the hip, showing off the curve of his ass as he unbuckles his boots. Underneath are his calves, covered in tight green stockings. Yusuf’s strokes quicken. Moisture bead copiously out of him, helping slick the way. Too fast, and the friction burns. Too slow, and the ecstasy fades away. He’s a fast learner. 

  
  


By the time Nicolò shimmies out of his trousers, Yusuf’s clasper is _obscene_. It’s risen and thickened nearly three times its resting size, the middle fatter than the flared, fuchsia-tinted head. Hot and heavy like a brand, yet soft as velvet. Veins bulge in beat to Yusuf’s rapid pulse. Those clear drops of fluid now leak, slow and sticky, over his knuckles.

  
  


“Oh…” Nicolò’s eyes widen. 

  
  


Yusuf hesitates, uncertain of his stunned reaction, “Is it ugly?” 

  
  


The ocean colour shadows with thunderous storm clouds the longer he stares at Yusuf’s burgeoning length. Standing there in nothing but his billowy chemise, Nicolò’s desire is obvious by the tenting at his hips. A damp spot rapidly forms over the gauzy fabric.

  
  


“On the contrary, _amore mio_ ,” Nicolò says, words rough with insatiable lust. He stalks forward, a predator cornering prey and Yusuf craves the devouring. If stroking him was good, then Nicolò wrapping his lips around him is earth-shattering. The wet hollow of his mouth drives Yusuf’s head back into the cushion. The fire stoked inside his loins flares into a roaring wildfire, scattering his thoughts chaotically until all he can focus on is the suction sliding up and down the shaft. 

  
  


Of course, Nicolò can’t swallow the whole thing. So he fists the base and bobs his head around as much of it as he can. His mate worships his erect clasper, alternating between suckling and slurping. The corner of his mouth is thinned and seeping saliva--it looks painful, but he impales himself eagerly. Yusuf is unsure what to do with his hands, clenched as they are at his thighs. Without pausing, Nicolò snatches them and encourages them to fist his hair. Problem solved. Bolstered, Yusuf pulls the strands. Intuition makes him snap his hips forcefully. 

  
  


Unfortunately, the tip hits the back of Nicolò’s throat, causing him to choke. Yusuf freezes at the gagging sound, suddenly afraid he’s hurt him. 

  
  


“Easy, _tesoro_ ,” Nicolò gasps, letting go with a sloppy pop. He hardly sounds like himself at all. Like he’s gargled salt water and tried to sing. Yusuf whimpers out an apology. 

  
  


“You’re excited, is all,” and Nicolò smiles dreamily, reassuring him with a pat to his thigh. Ruby-red lips wrecked from stretching around Yusuf’s girth. Nicolò laps over the head, spearing his tongue into a point to scoop more fluid. Flicking over the slit and worming around the hole. He licks under the bulbous head, finding a sensitive ridge to play with. It draws a mewl from Yusuf’s lungs. 

  
  


“You’re delicious, Yusuf.”

  
  


Yusuf blushes, bashful from the praise. The sack under his clasper tenses as Nicolò rolls it gently. No stinging pain from before. No, when Nicolò fondles him, Yusuf’s legs fall open in submission. Ducking lower, Nicolò washes the wrinkled flesh with the flat of his tongue. Jaw widening to suck a hefty egg into his inviting mouth. He buries his nose into the thatch of dark hair and _moans_. The vibrations ricochet through his sack and up his twitching shaft, releasing globs of more sticky fluid. 

  
  


It’s a willful battle not to arch into him again. His soul is screaming at him to _take, mate, claim_ \--thrash Nicolò into the sands until they’re one entity. “N-Nicolò!” Yusuf pants, caressing along his shoulders and cupping the nape of his neck. 

  
  


His cumbersome clasper taps against Nicolò’s reddened cheek, begging for more attention. Yusuf’s certain his own eyes are just as beseeching. Nicolò chuckles, releasing the sack to nuzzle and kiss the thickest vein. He sinks back over the weighty length and _hums_. 

  
  


Yusuf launches himself into the skies. His core bursts and sparks. A keg of blackpowder ignited. He is exploding in rapturous euphoria, the likes of which he’s never endured before. Howling, growling, screaming, Yusuf nearly brings the roof down. His sack draws up into his body and suddenly he _pulses_. Hot, dense liquid squirts out of his clasper, different from the previous droplets, and catches Nicolò unawares. 

  
  


Milky-white goop splotches his face--over his open mouth and tongue, dribbling down his chin. Outstandingly, Nicolò arches _into_ it, eyes closing in bliss. Yusuf’s essence rains over Nicolò, drenching him, clumping in his hair and eyelashes. Empty, Yusuf collapses bonelessly onto the couch. A layer of sweat pours off of him as he pants and shivers. _By the Deep_ …Maybe if he was aware of this level of heady gratification, Yusuf might have changed into a human sooner. 

  
  


Nicolò swipes his fingers through the mess coating his face. He catches Yusuf’s eye as he licks the digits clean. Another scoop and another taste, this one accompanied by a moan. Yusuf shifts back into soul-crushing yearn. 

  
  


“Do you want to taste yourself, Yusuf?”

  
  


He’s nodding before his brain can process the sultry words. Yusuf is a beached jellyfish, deflated and mushy. Yet he sits up, completely transfixed by his mate. He accepts the offered fingers, sucking on them just like Nicolò taught him. His essence is salty and slightly bitter--peculiar, but not revolting. Nicolò’s eyes are lidded, the black pupils wide enough to swallow the green-blue irises. The pads of his fingers press into Yusuf’s tongue, eliciting a groan. Yusuf wraps his arms around his waist and hauls him closer. 

  
  


Nicolò gasps, “Oh, you’re still hard!” Yusuf grins toothily down at himself where he’s poking Nicolò’s chest--so he is. He gathers from his mate’s reaction that that is a _good_ thing.

  
  


Nicolò’s smile turns impish. He stands in the circle of his lover’s arms, toying with the hem of his chemise. Yusuf smiles too, a dopey, giddy thing--he fingers the cloth and stares unabashedly at the wet patch staining the front. Previous anxiety long forgotten, Yusuf is imbued with a powerful appetite. Nicolò’s member is a hidden treat and Yusuf licks his lips, anticipating the reveal. 

  
  


Hitching the cloth over his thick thighs, Nicolò’s member bounces freely. It’s slim with a rosy-pink flush that deepens into a coral colour at the weeping tip. He’s not as stout as Yusuf, but he is lengthy. Yusuf buries his face into his crotch, inhaling the unique smell of his musky arousal. Intoxicating and maddening, just like his mate. Nicolò rocks his hips forward and sighs. Fingers thread into Yusuf’s curls, angling his head back so he can gaze upon him from above. So much love shines out of his ocean eyes that Yusuf feels his eyes prickle with tears. 

  
  


“ _Bellissimo_ ,” Nicolò whispers. He seats himself on Yusuf’s lap in one long, fluid movement, hands never leaving his hair. Their kiss is filled with sweet admiration and devotion. Love is a living, breathing thing shared between them--one which transcends the boundaries of land and sea. Nothing can keep him from his Nicolò. 

  
  


With his ass riding Yusuf’s legs, Nicolò lines them up and tries fisting them together. Yusuf is much too large for one hand, much less two shafts at once. So he drops his hand and helps trap them both. Their sacks rub over each other, adding another layer of titillating sensation. They break away from their kiss and gasp in unison. Together, Yusuf and Nicolò balance their motions and build themselves to dizzying heights. 

  
  


They undulate, hips gyrating faster and faster, staccato breaths dissolving into keening moans. The couch groans and creaks from their lovemaking, scuffing across the hardwood floors. Yusuf’s bunches up the chemise in his free hand, wrinkling the fabric and popping the stitches. He drags it up the length of his back, feeling the old sword scar brush his wrist. Nicolò nips along Yusuf’s ear, sucking on the lobe while yanking his hair. Yusuf licks his mate’s face, cleaning the white essence off his blushing skin until Nicolò can bear it no longer and smashes their mouths together. 

  
  


When they peek, they crash in unison. 

  
  


Quaking, they splash over their knuckles and thighs, seed pooling on their laps. Heedless of the mess, they embrace. Yusuf buries his face into Nicolò’s hair, smiling when he smells sea-salt and herbs. He is pleased he satisfies his mate, that they, in turn, complete each other. If he hadn’t changed himself then he’d be bereft of _this_. 

  
  


Nicolò presses butterfly-light kisses to his neck, “ _Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo_ ,” he murmurs. 

  
  


No. Yusuf doesn’t regret his decisions, not for one second.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Human Nicky and nonhuman Yusuf (djinn? merman?) are in love. Through magical means Yusuf becomes human which is exactly what they both wanted and is amazing and perfect! Except... Yusuf is a bit dismayed to discover what human male genitalia looks/feels like. It’s so weird and floppy and who thought it was a good idea to just leave it hanging out there all vulnerable and in the way? Nicky is more than happy to show him the benefits of having a dick/balls/ass with his hands and mouth. Happy ending where they reaffirm their love and that Yusuf becoming human was the right thing. If Nicky accidentally created a sex monster… whoops, but he’s not too dismayed about that! (Preferred names, time period, fantasy/mythology up to filler. OP just wants virgin Yusuf learning to enjoy physical intimacy and sex with a loving Nicky with some humor and smut!)
> 
> Title from a Thomas Love Peacock poem.


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